Name Poems

Name poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of name poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on name are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!

I can’t name things. I can’t tell, with some mighty confidence, this is this or that is that. You tell me of love. but, I have known too many loves. blue love, green love, red love, even yellow love. I

Behold, If no name on earth, How could I exist? I would have been like a bunch of cotton Floating in the air, A cluster of ideas unidentified, A solitary being born and withered, Which matters not to the world

When postponed, death had no meaning. It was lying in ambush. Journey was imperfect without a termination. Behind the dust was another desire. Another thumb on the trigger starts shooting through the bubble of moon. Every bone springs to jump

only the half-truths engage the nightfall the thing of dawn asked to wait in pouring blows sponsored by sin of brutal torture burning the genitals pushing sand in mouth blood rimmed stool I become you sit on eat your dinner

Violence !Bloodshed ! Massacre ! Hatred and callousness having its nasty play across the globe, inflicting myriad miseries on innocent people here and there, every now and then . And all these insane acts in the name of God !

His middle names Hussein First names barack, by the way The president of the united states And here he lives, born and raised But people like to complain About his “undeserving fame” All because of that Muslim name? What a

A glowing presence appeared before me; was I awake or was I asleep? I thought her first a stranger; she wasn’t a stranger at all. “What is your name?” I asked. She answered: “My name is Photon.” I thought how

As innocents mouth your name and whisper of war, In twisted martyrdom you unwisely invest. Mortality will come knocking at your door, And terrified minds will be put to rest. All the killing in religion’s name, Will guarantee a swift

Did you taste the ejecta after a sacred ritual of exploding a makeshift bomb in a crowded market? I am worried. I am becoming death, curling backward. The wood spirits have started a fire dance. The healing, yes, it comes

My name is Richa… Does it really matter?! It could’ve been Mala …Seema…Sita..Nirbhaya or even Chabili.. In the end I would’ve been married to a much older man.. or abandoned after impregnating in a forest.. I wash utensils …clean floors..

THE GIRL WHOSE NAME IS DEATH / BEYOND THE BARRIER OF SPACE, TIME, AND LEEDS In the Shopping Mall beneath enclosed skies I sit with my girl of the night-dark eyes, while half a world, and a culture away is

Belief will lynch all the vistas, one by one, for art of living, to break the silence of innocence. I will scream, when hurts bruise in temporal sleep, for man’s hymns of wheeled corpses wafting in eternal cliffs of truth

Watching the wilting dividers, wanted to declock the time in timeless death: though life must move on. After amputation, body waits to be lifted, negating the bed. Now it was time, which would you like, nouns that hurt? Or verbs

scape without a name scepter of a colossus merge in a yellow boom between hunch and a knife, to keep shut the glassy lips from red stares a secret of an anonym scripting sunset the stacked neurotransmission of millions of

Ceramic memories and terracotta pain; the injured crypt ultimately got opened. At urn burial, the name was absent. A pristine ritual for a nameless martyr. The sword within him was not used and pubescent bomb went unexploded. You leave a

In the womb of a test tube the male conjugates with the female, to germinate the genesis of a genus In a petri dish under the optics of a microscope a genetic engineer denudes and rapes the genus with a

Love is a strange thing, lies coiled up like a snake, its fangs to sink, it’s a beast that lies dormant, benign in its demeanor, first blood to draw, for years I have wandered, with just the feel of its

The train has already departed, From the country that they call yesterday, Into the territories uncharted, Leaving behind the remains of the day. Leaving behind the sobbing hills and churches, And nurseries full of sighing, And forests of ashen pines

remember dear… on that moonlit night when we sat watching the glittering shimmering moonbeams… on the blue waters …you had written my name on the Golden Sands; as a receding wave washed it away… I had questioned? You smiled… snuggled

“A young, bubbly lass once I saw, Tall, dusky and a charming smile she wore. Like all little girls, she waited in anticipation, Of a handsome young man, Who’d love her like no one. Her little follies he would overlook,

Her abuse of my naivety left a gaping wound; the cloaking (but never healing) of that wound made me hard and cold. ​She was sweet and sincere She dried my tears She was sympathetic And somewhat poetic She drew me

There was once a minister who moved to San Francisco to pastor a little church. The name of that little church was Emmanuel which means “God with us”. There was an atmosphere about that little church that said to strangers

An imprisoned bird looks through the window, beauty of the stars in the dark sky. She dreams to fly with her wings wide, sensing the fresh air, rejoicing amidst her fellow birds. She dreams to be happy and free again,

In the silence of night In the brightness of day I often wonder who are they Who being miles away Touch my heart touch my soul Touch my life Touch my very existence From that long distance Each morning, each

There is Heaven somewhere But there is one on the Earth That is a Mother who gives birth More than taking care her child She is glued to her child Noting every movement Laughs when the child laughs Cries when

whenever I feel alone in the journey of my life, only one company isthere with me….. Whenever I am hopeless in this life, only one hope is with me… Whenever i am wrong for everyone in this life, only one

Running, running through the crowded San Isidro de El General town square, awash in punishing heat and light, and you just miss your bus, the only bus home, now 55 Kilometers stare you in the face. You buy a torta,

Surrounded with the Beautiful Mist, My heart knows, this is life – a gist. No matter how foggy it seems, My soul desires to take the Leap. Faith and Liberation prevails, Only the charismatic peace it exhales. In front of

Born second amidst six siblings She was the quietest of all Her short stature was in no way deterrent to her extra ordinary skills She was the nightingale par excellence who could put the naughty kid to sleep, disturbed mind

To my sweet and lovely mamma with greatest love and respect. My mother is a lady of strong convictions, She loves unity condemns fractions. She is a talented lady of diverse arts,she has a good command on her mother-tongue,and Knows

Life is like Deepavali crackers Some crack with thunder And some fizzle out committing blunder life is like a Flowing river Some keep going and reach the summit Like a perennial river reaching the Sea And some get stuck up

A cold, lifeless blade was pressed against chilly, tender flesh Slowly, she presses it down, feeling the pressure on her limb Then, there is a sudden relief as the crimson rivers and the inner trash Comes tumbling down, red raindrops

Her mere name piercing through my Ear Sets my heart beat to the rhythmic romantic tunes Needless to say my life has completely taken a U turn for Good ever since my intrusion into the mystique and fantasy filled romantic

There were tears when you came, There were tears when you left, When you were born they gave you a name. That after you went, but few would recollect. They pulled you down like a tower, They hunted you out

If only I had a döppelgänger, I’d peacefully live my life of languor, Entirely at my own sedated pace, For me he’d run with rats of human race. Then, entirely at my own leisure, I could entertain my simple pleasures